


Something Might Be Found

by zetsubonna



Series: Crackfic for Characterization Purposes [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky/Steve/Bucky, M/M, POV Bucky Barnes, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War Bucky, Unexplained Doppleganger, Winter Soldier Bucky, Winter Soldier-Bucky looking at both versions of himself and generally feeling like crap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 20:46:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2164602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetsubonna/pseuds/zetsubonna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous said:<br/>So you know how you did CA!Steve/WS!Bucky/pre-serum!Steve? I was thinking about requesting the opposite, WS!Bucky/CA!Steve/Pre-fall!Bucky, but I can't imagine any scenario where that would be non-angsty. It's not that I think WS!Bucky would be against sharing Steve (see: Sam & Natasha are totes cool), but I think him seeing Steve & pre-fall!Bucky together specifically would hella set off some issues. Thoughts? Is there any way to make that sexy threesome work?</p><p>Steve/Bucky/Steve fic, <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2123421">"Twice the Punk You Usually Are"</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Might Be Found

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Something Might Be Found](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2530199) by [xyoshiki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xyoshiki/pseuds/xyoshiki)



> Title from "Hey Jealousy" by the Gin Blossoms, suggested by Bluandorange.

It started off with them standing, and Steve not between them, so they were eyeballing each other like cats about to start clawing, hissing and spitting over who belonged there.

"What the Hell?" Bucky muttered, squinting, and Bucky knew he was taking in the long hair, the metal arm, the two days’ worth of stubble. It made Bucky feel sick to look at himself, pomaded and polished, fucking _smirk_ on his goddamn face like he didn't have a care in the world.

He _didn't_. He thought he did, keeping up with Steve's medicine and their budget- Steve never had two nickels to rub together, so he couldn't budget for shit- and juggling girls, work and when he'd be able to pop in on his ma and slip her a couple of dollars, but no. Bucky didn't know hard. Bucky didn't know a goddamn thing. Bucky was a jerk.

Bucky hated this shit. He spared a sharp glance for Steve. "Fuckin’ _Christ_." Steve knew how he felt about Bucky. He should damn well know better than this. "Seriously, baby? _Really_?”

"It’s not like it was my idea," Steve said, frowning and ducking his head a little.

Bucky got distracted as soon as Steve talked, taking him in from top to bottom, then snaking his tongue across his lips and swallowing. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” he muttered. “The Hell did  _you_  do to  _yourself_?”

Steve exhaled in a loud sigh. “It ain’t that bad,” he said, rolling his eyes and letting his posture slump, jaw setting a little crooked.

Bucky knew that look, knew that cringe, he'd seen it himself the first time he'd gotten Steve alone after the Hydra camp, the dread deep in the pit of Steve's stomach that told him he hadn't hid his envy and fear of losing him nearly deep enough, that Steve could read him like a book. Steve knew when Bucky was teasing and when he was really hurt, angry or upset. Steve always fucking knew, and Bucky should know he knew.

Bucky knew when Steve was hurting physically, even though he'd lie about it until he coughed up blood, and Steve knew when Bucky was hurting emotionally, because Bucky had only ever hurt _emotionally_ , because he was, in every area except Steve, carefree and easy and so, so _soft_.

Bucky didn't know pain. He thought he did, but he didn't know _shit_.

"He can breathe and he never gets sick and he’ll live to be at least a hundred," Bucky snapped. "Don’t be such an asshole."

Bucky squinted and looked down and back up, closing his eyes and shaking his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Count my blessings, I guess. Can’t say I as like the hair, either. S’too short.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and spread out and clenched both hands, the left whirring softly. And he knew Steve could read him, see wanted nothing more than to punch himself in the face.

“Don’t,” he warned, grinding it out between his teeth. Bucky ought to know better than to look at Steve like that. Like Steve hadn't seen that look before for just the opposite on every stupid dame Bucky had ever tried to fix him up with. Bucky should know better. Bucky wouldn't let anybody else look at Steve like that, why the Hell did he think Bucky would?  “Just- fucking  _don’t_.”

"Hey," Steve said, tilting his head back and to the side, reaching out and letting his hand curve around the side and back of Bucky’s neck, squeezing gently, his fingertips brushing between the back of Bucky’s head and his hair elastic. "Hey, relax. It’s okay. Everything’s okay."

Some of his tension instantly fell out of him, and Bucky rolled his eyes and moved like he was gonna pull away, frowning deeply, and Bucky bit his lips together and swallowed thickly, letting his breath loose in a slow exhale and letting a quiet chuckle slip when his mouth only reached so high when he moved to kiss Steve’s shoulder. “Never gonna get rid of you, am I?” he murmured into his skin. “Stubborn little punk.”

Bucky half closed his eyes, looking at the floor, pressing his lips together and swallowing. He remembered that, too. How, until Carter, he'd never questioned for a single second that Steve felt the same way he did, never gave it a moment's thought. Never had any reason to. Steve, the dense little shit, had always looked at Bucky like the sun shone out of his ass, and Bucky never asked himself if he deserved it.

He was pretty sure he didn't, now that he'd had time to think about it, and maybe he never had, but, where Bucky was concerned, Steve had always been-

“Stupid as a box of rocks,” he muttered.

Steve smiled faintly, leaning his head to the side, and both of them frowned, and moved to reach for him, and ended up glaring at each other again.

"What do you want?" Bucky snarled at Bucky.

"He’s  _mine_ ,” Bucky said, squinting. He looked so sure, like nothing could ever change it. “He’s apparently always gonna damn well  _be_  mine, so.”

"I don’t want him  _lookin_ '  _at you_ ,” Bucky retorted. No matter what Steve said, he was always comparing himself to this jerk. To this guy who was, in Bucky's mind, a _ghost._   “You’re de-“

Steve put his hand over Bucky’s mouth. “Stop.”

Bucky glared at him over his hand, but fell silent. They'd had this conversation before. Steve was adamant that Bucky was  _not_ dead. He wouldn't hear it, not even from Bucky. The important stuff was supposedly all still there, even if he couldn't see it himself.

"How many dents I gotta get in my sides before you send me to the junkyard?" Bucky asked, kissing Steve’s shoulder again. _He was so damn sure._ "Christ. I look like twice-baked Hell."

Well, that much was true, but Bucky _had_ been to Hell more than twice over the past seventy years, he had the right to look like shit.

"Shut up, jerk," Steve said, but it was low and fond, and he squeezed his hand over Bucky’s mouth gently before he dropped it. "I know what we’re doing, if you can stop glaring at yourself long enough to let me."

So they ended up on the bed, all three of them bare-assed naked because Bucky never liked fucking with clothes on, unless it was dames in nylons.

Bucky marveled at Steve’s back, running his hands over it and along his sides, exploring every inch of muscle, the smooth, straight line of his spine, occasionally huffing out his breath and shaking his head in disbelief, because Steve had always been beautiful but now he was big enough to match his mouth and so pretty it was stupid.

Bucky ran the fingers of his right hand through Steve’s close-cropped, silk-soft hair, looking into his eyes. He wasn't that Bucky anymore. He'd gotten better, a lot better, a Hell of a lot better, but he would never be that Bucky again, and he couldn't pretend. He wouldn't.

He brought his left hand up to cup Steve's jaw, tracing his thumb Steve's lower lip and getting a kiss for it, right on the ball of his thumb. Couldn't feel it, obviously, just a sense of pressure, not how soft and sweet it was, how damp from Steve's tongue.

Steve hated fingers in his mouth, it pissed him right off, reminded him of doctors, emetics and thermometers, of being sick all the time and constantly having people stare down his throat until it closed down and he had an attack from the stress of it.

But Bucky liked Steve's mouth. Steve had always been ninety percent _mouth_. He looked down at Steve through his eyelashes, pushed his thumb past those soft, pretty pink lips, and Steve, reading Bucky like a damn book as usual, took the hint. He kept his mouth open, so Bucky could see the way his tongue traced the joints and plate-edges. Steve knew, he knew this was the Bucky he had now, the Bucky he was stuck with, and he was glad to have him.

"Like a goddamn  _greenhouse_  for growing brand new kinds of  _stupid_ ,” he grumbled, closing his eyes.

Steve smiled, rubbing his cheek into Bucky’s palm.

Bucky smacked Steve’s ass. “We doin’ this or what? Did you  _ever_  figure out a place to put the slick where you wouldn’t have to quit everything to find it?”

Bucky huffed, taking his hand away from Steve’s face and reaching over to grab the bottle out of the drawer in the nightstand, throwing it at Bucky like he was hurling a fastball, looking mildly annoyed when he caught it and it didn’t hit him dead in the chest.

"Huh," Bucky muttered, dripping it over his fingers. "This is different."

"Do you ever goddamn shut up?" Bucky hissed. Christ, they'd been having a fuckin'  _moment_ , this guy was  _such a dick_ , how had Steve ever put up with him?

Silence, as Bucky glared back at Bucky, unafraid and completely unimpressed.

"Bucky," Steve sighed, shaking his head.

"Sorry," they said at the same time, "Stevie-Baby" overlapping each other and making them glare again.

Steve, rolling his eyes, leaned forward instead of trying to talk to either of them, resting his weight on one hand, stroking Bucky’s cock with the other, coaxing it harder and bathing it with his tongue.

"At least you’re pretty," Bucky murmured when he looked down again, caressing the back of Steve’s neck.

Steve just hummed, and Bucky caught the catch in his breath before he muffled it by replacing the licks with his whole mouth.

"Christ," Bucky murmured, two fingers thrusting shallowly in up to the second knuckle. "Jesus Christ. How the Hell are you so  _tight_? You’re gonna damn well kill me.”

Steve moaned softly around Bucky’s cock, which Bucky took as a chance to push into his mouth more forcefully, starting to rock his hips forward in slow, leisurely strokes, holding Steve gently by the back of the neck, his blush starting to creep across his back and down toward his trim waist.

"Still do that, too," Bucky murmured, pushing in with a third finger, twisting them, turning Steve’s mouth into a soft, warm, wet, pliant thing. Bucky took full advantage of it, until the sloppy wet sounds and low, hungry moans were too much for Bucky. He withdrew his fingers, replacing them with his cock and pushing in a little faster than  was strictly necessary just as Steve was swallowing Bucky’s cock and getting a shuddering sound and a hiss out of Bucky.

"Don’t fucking  _rush_  him.”

"Don’t let him  _choke to death_  on your dick, are you crazy?”

Steve rolled his eyes, abruptly pushing back at Bucky hard, taking him in until Bucky’s balls hit Steve’s. “ _Jesus Christ_ , _Stevie,_ _yes_!”

Steve looked hotly up at Bucky, eyes unwavering, dropping his hand from Bucky’s cock to his hip and pulling. _  
_

"You’re completely crazy," Bucky murmured, eyes half-closed and warm.

Steve let him slip out for a moment, murmuring, “I expect bruises on my hips  _and_  my tonsils. Think you can do that?”

Bucky gulped. “Holy Hell.”

"Whatever you want, baby boy," Bucky murmured, left eyebrow twitching up,  _finally_  giving him a ghost of a smile.

Steve dropped his chin to his chest, so it wasn’t immediately obvious who he was talking to, and made a low, humming, pleasant noise. “Come on, then, Buck. You  _can’t_  break me, not anymore, so do it.  _Gimme_.”

It was  _loud_ , for all none of them raised their voices above a murmur, Steve moaning, slick and wet and welcoming on both ends, Bucky seeming to be in a competition with Bucky to see who could go harder and deeper, digging into Steve’s hips and holding him by the back of his neck. Their voices overlapped each other, blending together in a world of noise.

It wasn't that Bucky'd forgotten how to talk nice. He could still do it, maybe eventually he'd put those wires back together, but for now, he didn't mind it. He was gonna sound different.

"Oh, baby, oh  _Jesus_ , baby, Christ, Stevie, you feel so good, I can’t stand it, God, I want you so bad, you’re so goddamn tight I can’t damn well breathe-“

"Take it. God, look at you. You want it so bad. You look so pretty with my dick in your mouth, you’re a fuckin’ masterpiece, suck it so good. Come on, Stevie, put your tongue into it, you know what I like. Don’t you dare close your eyes, you damn well  _look at me_ when I’m doin’ you-“

"You’re so  _hot_ , goddamn, holy shit, damn, oh baby doll, you make me crazy, you’re so good, you feel so good, oh, Stevie, baby, sweetheart, you’re so beautiful, damn, you ain’t  _real_ -“

"Mine. You’re  _mine_. Mine, mine, mine. You’re mine, aren’t you, Rogers? Don’t matter how big you are or how damn fancy your outfit is, punk, you’re my pretty baby boy and you fuckin’ know it, God, you’re so fuckin’  _sweet_ , damn-“

Steve never could handle Bucky sweet talking him or dirty talking him, so he only lasted about five minutes. He never even touched his cock, he shot all over his stomach and the sheets and started grunting with every jolt until they poured into him at the same time, hot and deep, making him gulp and twitch and moan all over again.

"Jesus  _Christ_ ,” Bucky mumbled, pressing himself to Steve’s back. “Holy shit.”

"Told you," Bucky muttered, smirking, nuzzling Steve’s hair. "Don’t. You know this jackass. He only ever gets  _better_.”


End file.
